


Lions at the Gate

by Winterstar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 00:00:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11816967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: Steve closes his eyes and tries not to let the swirl of thoughts overwhelm him. They came in broad daylight for the educators, for the intellectuals, for the scientists. They came and people cheered.





	Lions at the Gate

**Author's Note:**

> For my cap-ironman bingo card - Battle/Fight/Confrontation

The chug and sway of the locomotive lulls slumber close like an enemy creeping up behind them. He keeps his eyes cracked open, alert and in waiting for the Defense Force. Their luck will run out, soon enough. Steve’s not stupid to think that this world doesn’t know how to kick them in the teeth, repeatedly and without prejudice. He glances out the train window; it’s covered in soot and grease. The rocky land streams by them. He’s not even sure how old the train car is, how long the engine has been on these rickety tracks. Probably as long ago as Partition – so not as old as him. He smiles as he gazes down at Tony tucked into his side and leaning against him. 

It’s been a long time, too long. The fight nearly did him in. Too many times. Too bad the armor is gone, long gone. Too bad that things went South and then South again. They thought things would get better, that with a little change here and there that their voices would be heard. Everyone did. No one really thought that it could get as bad as it has. How could they? The idea that America would fall, that the trappings of the Constitution itself would be used to devour and destroy it from within. 

But fall it did – sure it still calls itself America – everyone knows that’s a fallacy. What’s left isn’t even a shadow or a reflection. It is more of an echo, losing potency as time weakens it. Steve knows he shouldn’t dwell, because what good is it to rehash the past. It hurts too damned much. To know that all that he stood for at one time is a sham? To know that his own image was used as a tool for something perverse and gross. It sickens him. If he wants to survive, if he wants Tony to survive this hellish nightmare then he has to keep his wits about him. 

The train rounds the bend in the mountains and Steve tries to tell himself they’re safe in this foreign land. They have two more station stops and then they climb out of the car and head toward the mountain retreat and safety. It took all of Steve’s markers to find Tony, to get him out of that prison, and to bring him home. Next to him Tony shivers and Steve tries to tell himself that Tony is the same – or will be the same again someday. He resolves that’s what will happen once they get home. Pulling up the blanket on Tony’s lap, Steve adjusts it to cover him. The exhaustion etches Tony’s face, ages him. It hurts to see him so distant, so lost. Of course, going to prison and being put in solitary for sixteen months will do that to anyone. 

Prison.

Defense Force.

Fall of America.

Steve closes his eyes and tries not to let the swirl of thoughts overwhelm him. They came in broad daylight for the educators, for the intellectuals, for the scientists. They came and people cheered. He can still hear them screaming the ugly chats; he can still see the faces in the crowd. Every last one of them he remembers. In that moment when Steve knew hatred and rage. A rage so deep and so unfathomable it will always abide. He also felt – for the first time since before Project Rebirth – powerlessness, helplessness. 

At least now he can do something. He doesn’t want to think about the months and months they kept him from acting. He doesn’t want to think about how even Steve Rogers, Captain America, cannot fight the madness of the mob. But now, he hopes for the best. They have a plan, things are in place. They can do something again. He’s a man of action after all. He cannot sit on his hands and wait. 

Tony mumbles something but it’s garbled and Steve’s heart sinks. He hasn’t been able to get through to Tony much at all. Most murmurs from Tony sound like he’s eating marbles. What Steve dreads are the tantrums. When Tony bashes his head with his fists, or tries to pull out his hair. Steve can take the rocking or the mumbling, but he wants to die a little when Tony beats himself and cries. What did they do to him? Why couldn’t Steve get to him on time to save him? Is there a way to save him now?

He clasps Tony’s fists in his hands to try and quell the growing anxiety. As he does the train pulls into its stop. They still have one more to go before they have to leave and find their way through the barren terrain. He turns his attention to Tony, ignoring the tired passengers around him as they shift and move to leave the car or as they board and settle into the worn and ripped seats. 

“Do you want something to eat?” Steve asks, not truly expecting an answer. “Or maybe some water. I have water.” Steve reaches down to retrieve the canteen. He twists open the cap and holds it for him. Tony stares at him, no recognition in his blood shot eyes. “Water, Tony.”

He lifts the canteen to Tony’s lips and tries to get him to drink. Some of the water dribbles out, but he does get some of it down Tony’s throat. When Steve pulls away the canteen, Tony smacks his lips and mutters about the eagles and lions. 

“Water’s good, right?” Steve says and ignores the rest. He’s never sure what Tony says. It’s jumbled most of the time or idiotic the rest.

“Lions round the bend. Eagles in the glen.”

“Okay,” Steve says and closes up the canteen. He stows it under the seat in front of him. As he does he feels a tap on his shoulder. He looks up. A soldier, local not from the Defense Force. “Yes, sir?”

“Papers?”

Steve grimaces. “Sir?”

“Do you have tickets? Or passports?” His accent is thick. The soldiers waits. Not like other soldiers that Steve’s seen in their trek through to the safe house. Sweat covers the man’s forehead in the cold of winter. He flicks his hands opened and closed as if he’s itching for a fight. 

“Tickets, yes,” Steve says and digs in his jacket pocket. He pulls them out and offers the two tickets to the man. 

The soldier studies them and then calls over one of his troop. Steve watches him but he grips Tony’s hand at the same time. He checks outside the window, through the haze of dirt he sees a well-dressed man, Caucasian, balding, with a pin on his lapel. An American flag pin. The man is conferring with one of the station guards. 

Steve swallows down a curse. “Get ready,” Steve mutters.

He doesn’t wait for the soldier to finish his conference. Instead, Steve leaps to his feet and rams his elbow into the man’s nose. The pop of the cartilage cracks through the air and blood splatters. One of the other passengers screams out shock while another only gasps. The other soldier on the train jumps away from Steve, trying to flee, but Steve kicks the first one into the chairs and manages to seize the other. He shoves the man forward, smashing his head against the front of the car. With a swift kick, he pushes the soldier to the side. Rushing back to their seat, Steve scoops up their duffle bag and grabs hold of Tony’s hand.

“Come on, we have to go.”

Tony’s resistant. He shudders and grasps his hands into balls. He shakes his head.

“Please Tony, they’re coming. We don’t have much time.”

Tony hits his forehead several times, rocking as he does. It terrifies and mortifies Steve. 

“Please, please, Tony. Come on.” Steve knows he can’t carry him out of there. He knows the people on the train are alerting the authorities right now. He can hear them whispering, shifting. 

“Ready to pounce,” Tony cries and he curls up in a ball.

Steve grabs his collar and pulls him to his feet. They don’t have time. The clock’s run out. He hauls Tony out of the comfort of the seat, forgetting the blanket and half of their supplies. They don’t have time. Tony staggers to follow him as he tries to find his feet. Steve doesn’t look back, but his grip remains firm and in place as he tows Tony along. He manages to get them down the aisle and to the doors of the train, stumbling down the steps. With a quick glance around the platform, Steve decides on not the stairs to the lower levels and the street but he leads them toward the railing. 

Tony whines as Steve holds onto him, dragging him toward the railing of the platform. They are at least two stories above the street level. They race to the edge of the platform and Steve surveys the landscape below them. It will be a hard landing. If Steve had his shield it would be easier, but there’s nothing for it. They have to jump. 

Behind them the soldiers are marching, the American is coming. Steve – Captain America – has to jump, has to get away from the American. 

“We’re jumping. It will be okay,” Steve says and doesn’t believe a word of it. He slings on the duffle and then steps over the rail, helping Tony do the same. “Ready?”

“Lions at the gate.”

“You better bet there are,” Steve agrees. 

“Then fly? Like the eagles?”

Steve looks at the long way down. He can make it, he will make it. He’ll take the brunt of the fall. Tony will fall on him. They’ll survive, they’ll run. They’ll fight another day. “Then we fly.”

From the platform he hears the orders, “Stop them. Stop them!”

Steve embraces Tony. A single nod.

And then they jump.

THE END


End file.
